


The Prehssde Family

by awessasims



Category: American Gods (TV), The Sims 2 - Fandom
Genre: American Gods (2017) (mention), Incest, Sibling Incest, The Sims 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 23:19:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16690831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awessasims/pseuds/awessasims





	The Prehssde Family

Hi, my name is Prehssde...Rhe Prehssde. I'm having a very “Major Tom” moment right now, locked up with my family inside an observation deck viewing the destruction of our planet. I don't know who I may be leaving this behind for, if anyone at all, but here it goes...this is our story.

I almost don't know where to start...I guess the beginning would be a good place. My sister, Dee, and I moved to Veronaville, SimNation just over a year ago. We couldn't afford much so we bought a small strip of land facing the canal and began the slow process of building our own home. I have to admit that we came with a nice little Simoeleon infusion, courtesy of the inheritance our dearly departed mother left us, but that ran out pretty quickly. Thankfully, I got a job; I'm a lighting technician currently working on the set of “American Gods”, and let me tell you, I believe that Gods exist.

Our family was originally from overseas; our father was a hardworking carpenter and our mother was a teacher; we lived a life of relative comfort as children, but being bi-racial our family experienced some tough times within the community. Our dad left the old country and settled us in Party Rock Falls, SimNation by the time my sister and I were headed for high school. The move actually served us well—we made new friends easily and excelled at school. Our dad opened up his own furniture design business and made a great success of himself catering to the very eclectic—and some quite wealthy—denizens of the town. Mom got a job at our high school after we graduated and served as the principal until she retired. Dee and I both went happily off to college a year apart from each other.

We'd both planned to live out the rest of our lives in Party Rock Falls, especially after our father died and left our mother a widow. Although I was majoring in electrical engineering I had a minor in business; I didn't have my father's talent for crafting furniture but I knew enough to run the business long enough to figure out what to do with it while I settled my father's affairs. I was able to sell the business for a very profitable sum which added to our mother's already impressive portfolio.

But things started changing, slowly at first and then at an alarming pace—the town began to die. 

PRF had always been a place unto itself, like no other we'd ever lived in before. There were quite a few families that very much lived life as they saw fit, and damned what anyone thought about it. In the old days they would have been called Libertines, and it was hard not get caught up in the culture, pardon the pun. 

My sister and I managed to do just that, even though we had lots of friends who had no problem limiting their dating pool within the confines of their own homes. The whole situation was like people who do drugs—I do what I do, or don't; you do what you do, or don't. The main thing was to level no judgment, either way. And that's how we all got along.

But sometime just before my sister and I graduated from college, whole families started to disappear. They either packed up and left their fine homes for other destinations; some made a point to say goodbye before they left, others just slipped away quietly without a backwards glance. It was quite alarming. 

We didn't have to wonder for long about what we do for our retired mother, because the death of our father, and the town she had come to love so dearly as well, was too much for her. Content in the knowledge that her two grown children were fine, looking forward to success in life, and were not fucking each other, she passed away quietly in her sleep on my sister's second night back home after her graduation from college.

There was nothing left in PRF for us to stay for and no one else to say goodbye to. We buried our dear mother beside our father in Widows Walk Simetery, packed up the family home and gave the listing to Bobby Khannival Realty. We headed a few towns over to Veronaville for a fresh start.

Lo and behold, we reconnected with a few old friends who had also made their way there. A lot of friends had dispersed all over SimNation, we came to find out. The reasons for them doing so, however, were not really touched upon, I noticed during the conversations in our happy reunions; we were all still of the same mind to check any judgments at the door. And though the Libertine friends we had re-connected with had tamed their ways considerably, the old love stories had not died; they were still going strong, just much more secret as to their origins and true nature. 

Somewhere along the way, in the endeavor of building our new home, me landing my dream job and my sister searching for her own as an interior decorator, the two of us fell under the curse so many of our friends had always viewed as a blessing—we fell in love with each other.

Had we angered the Gods? At first it didn't seem as though we had. We fought our impulses a long while before we finally gave in to them; when we finally did no one other than our old friends were any the wiser, and our secret was safe with them. We settled into our new lives easily and happily; our house was still a work in progress and Dee hadn't found a job yet, but my salary was more than enough to sustain us while she continued to search. You can guess what happened next—and what happened next surely seemed to anger the Gods, indeed.

Not long after we'd completed the upstairs bedroom my sister got pregnant. We were both overjoyed; a little worried, but overjoyed. We went right out and got all of the things our baby would need and set up our large bedroom to fit the makeshift nursery. This hadn't been planned, of course, and our tiny plot of land would not allow us to spread out; we tried not to panic; we thanked the Gods that we had the space that we did have—we would be able to build up, if not out. We had a space that we could convert to a room if we enclosed the second floor foyer and the balcony attached to it, so there was that. If we kept our family at three members, anyway.

Our son, Augh, was born healthy, happy and beautiful and we thanked the Gods sincerely. We kept his diapers dry, his bottles plentifully stocked and loved him within an inch of his life. He was a quiet baby who didn't seem to ever find a reason for crying. Dee and I truly felt blessed.

In rapid succession our son, Kham, and our daughter, Ihm, were born. Time, money and space got very definitely dicey. Even so, Dee and I truly felt blessed.

Augh was a miracle baby, just happy and easygoing, and never strayed from a sleep schedule that a mother could love. But Kham and Ihm were both of very differing temperaments and both Dee and I struggled with the fact that we would never know a full night's sleep for years to come.

Dee was overwhelmed at home and needed my help with three small babies in the house; I was taking more time off from work, which was jeopardizing my job; we couldn't afford a nanny for Dee to start working—well, you get the picture. 

It was the first time I really felt that the Gods were against us. 

During one of our headier periods of keeping diapers changed, babies fed, bathed and cared for, the first Social Worker came. I knew then that the Gods had turned their backs on us for our sins. However, a strange reprieve occurred: just as the Social Worker finished her lecture at us, our oldest boy, Augh, miraculously aged up and became an adult! One of the more forgiving Gods had seen fit to help us, it seemed, and we rejoiced! The Social Worker was stymied to the point of her complete inability to make any further move against us; she just stood in the living room, frozen in shock and anger that she had been undone.

We thought that would be that and set to work attending to Kham and Ihm's needs as immediately as possible, and that took every waking moment. We didn't even have time to congratulate our firstborn, or even get a good look at him as he started chipping in to help us with his brother and sister, and then the myriad of neglected chores around the house. He promised to find a job right away so that his mother could stay home in peace to raise the children and so that I could get back to work full-time. He even hired a maid, confident that he would be working by the next morning and be able to pay for her services himself. What a blessing our boy was!

And so it seemed that two Gods had taken their interest in our little in-bred family; the first one that had been angered at us saw fit to inflict more punishment upon us, even as the other that had taken pity on us tried to help. I felt as if a contest had ensued; a War of the Gods had surely commenced, between those I shall call Angry God and Kind God.

The first Social Worker finally left the house, but not the premises; she set herself up as a sentry, across the street and standing defiantly at her horse-drawn child-napping-mobile, calling more Workers to come to her aid—she was intent on taking our last two babies away, in spite of the fact that we had seen to all of their needs. 

Surely enough the second Worker arrived to take Kham away; just as Augh before him, Kham grew up to adulthood! Another Social Worker, flabbergasted and angry, was cut down mid-sentence in her diatribe against us. She marched out of the house and posted herself at the bottom steps of the front door. Seconds later a third Worker arrived, now after little Ihm, for Angry God would not be outdone. And for a third time, Kind God smiled upon us and grew Ihm, in the blink of an eye, to adulthood; she had even seen fit to have them all grow up well, in spite of the attack by Angry God. But just as suddenly Ihm disappeared in a ball of ectoplasmic pink and purple light. 

Now the Social Workers began the process of amassing a small army, led, of course, by Angry God. There were nine of them, that I was able to count before it was all over, including their fearless leader at the carriage. It was a nightmare. None of us could exit the front door, so deep in number they were barricading it; the new maid couldn't get through, no matter how many times I called her over to come in through the kitchen door on the side of the house. 

Yet, Angry God was not done with his hatefulness. 

I went to my car to try and leave for work only to find that the car would not start! I was trapped on our lot, losing money and probably about to lose my job! Our beloved Kham tried to get to the mailbox to pay our overdue bills and couldn't breach it for all of the Social Workers barring the way. And so then the Repo Man came—Angry God ensured that he could get in and take whatever he pleased. 

Dee was screaming by then, and ran out of the kitchen door; she threw herself upon the ground at the foot of of the Social Worker, crying and tearing at her hair in hopelessness and desperation, begging for mercy—and then the mailman came, stepped over her and delivered the next batch of bills into the mailbox that we could not access. 

It was madness, I tell you, and it went on for three Sim days, with the Social Workers standing out before our house, forbidding anyone their escape or entry according to Angry God's will.

Kind God busted a move on that third day: as the Repo Man left the house she turned him into a vampire! He died in the rays of the morning sunshine right before our eyes! Then, just as swiftly, the nine Social Workers were turned into vampires, as well! Some of them screamed and hissed as the sun burned their deathly pale skin; others stood stock still, completely unfazed—Angry God refused to give up trying to smite us; in the middle of the street, in front of her carriage, the lead Social Worker was in a fight with the ball of light, otherwise known as our daughter Ihm, whom she was still trying to possess and take away.

That's the last thing I remember. At least until I woke up on this Alien space ship where I'm standing beside my weeping sister and our two sons, looking out from our small holding cell at what was once SimNation, now a Big Fiery Ball Visible from farthest reaches of Space, and still in the process of infusing Infinity with its dust particles.

Had we really been caught up in a war between two Gods? Or one bi-polar God? Or by a bunch of Gods for shits and giggles on a slow Saturday night? Do not the Gods have cable television to alleviate this kind of shit? Have we been saved? Are we the only ones spared? Are we responsible for the destruction of our world in the first place? Or is it that the Gods have simply fucked up? Does more punishment await us? And why us, when so many others before us engaged in the same disastrous activities? Our questions are endless. I guess we'll never really know the answers to most of them. We fear the ones that will be answered presently.


End file.
